Category Archives: Columns

Articles from various writers about subjects to both inform and entertain. Your monthly lbfm and bar girl fix to cure that terrible PPD, barfine tricks, tips from experienced bar girl punters from Bangkok / Pattaya and beyond.

Leaving the Philippines wasn’t going to be easy. This was a country I had planned on visiting for four days and I was still there one year, and a lifetime of experience, later. A sojourn like this changes a man and I knew deep down inside, my life would never be the same again. Somehow the Philippines had become a part of me, and in my own little way, me a part of it. From here there was no going back, the dye had been cast, and I was to forever look at the world from a different perspective.

My flight to England was scheduled to depart early evening so at 2PM I gave Lisa a kiss goodbye, gave her a little money and told her in my sincerest tone, “don’t worry hon Martin come back Philippines soon”. By this time Lisa had turned on the water works and with tears streaming down her cheeks promised me she would wait faithfully until I returned.

Whenever I encounter a reaction such as Lisa’s my cynical side kicks in and I ask myself, is this genuine or is she just working the emotional angle for some other reason. Maybe she is trying to make me feel sorry for her, maybe this is learned behavior, maybe the Filipinas have a genealogical disposition for drama and emotional reactions. To this day I still question the Filipinas motives for turning on the water works and emotional responses in general. The only difference is, these days because of my experience, I in some ways value the emotional response and regard it as part of the girl friend experience, the likes of which when it comes to bar girls, can only be truly given by a Filipina.

I sauntered downstairs with my baggage in hand to be greeted by the ever friendly and efficient May who asked me, “where are you going this time Sir Martin” and with a sad look in my eyes I replied, “it’s time for me to leave the Philippines May, I have to head over to England now and try and earn some money so I can come back here and spend it all”. When May heard my little attempt at flippant humor she gave me a dazzling smile and said, “all the staff at the Mayfair will miss you Sir Martin because you are very nice man”.

The sincerity in May’s comment was clearly evident and when I heard these words I was genuinely touched. Indeed this is one of the things that I have really come to appreciate about Filipino culture. For the most part they are friendly and accepting of foreigners and seem to genuinely care, They also have few barriers when it comes to showing their feelings and being demonstrative. In many societies displays of emotion are frowned upon and we are taught to maintain control by reigning in our emotional responses. In the Philippines the opposite is true, here they are encouraged to openly display their emotions which can be a good and bad thing.

After having said fond farewells to May I walked out into the courtyard and there were Ken and Dave sitting at their usual table both smiling at me. I wandered over to the table and said, “what are you two grinning about”, to which David replied, “good to see you getting out of here mate. I reckon you’ll enjoy England and if you don’t, well we will still be here when you get back.”

The taxi ride to the airport must have been the longest hour of my life. The traffic was at a standstill, the rickety old fan on the dash board along with the rattling old air conditioner, did virtually nothing to cool the cab down and the driver with his inane questions about where I was from, would I like to meet a good girl upon my return etc, just worsened my already intensely miserable mood. I really didn’t want to leave this country and in my mind I was desperately trying to find an excuse to stay.

Once at the airport I breezed through customs and immigration with only a slight hiccup at immigration from a female immigration officer who questioned me why I had been in the Philippines so long. She looked at my passport and said, “sir you have been in the Philippines a long time”, to which I replied, “yes I fell in love with the Philippines”. When she heard this she simply smiled stamped my passport and waved me through.

When I look back at this I realize how much the Philippines and indeed the entire world has changed. In today’s world if I am questioned like this there is always an alternate agenda but I never sensed this from the lady questioning me. Instead all I sensed was a genuine interest in why I would choose to spend so much time in her country. Back in the day things were so much simpler and the Filipinos whilst loving their country, also couldn’t understand why a foreigner would enjoy the Philippines more than his own country.

When it comes to the Philippines it seems to me the Filipinos exist in a permanent state of contradiction. On the one hand they are proud of their country “pinoy pride” but on the other hand they all want to get out because they see other countries as having more opportunities. Having said that I think the core value of love and respect for their own country is still there. Most Filipino’s go overseas to work and send the majority of their income home before eventually coming home to live themselves.

In my younger years it would always amuse me when I heard Filipinos referring to their stint overseas as them making their “sacrifice”. As far as I could see they were heading overseas to make their lot in life a better one so how could this be considered a sacrifice. Then when I had kids of my own I knew exactly what they meant Having to leave ones country and family is damned hard, in fact it’s gut wrenchingly agonizing, and even though it’s to find more lucrative employment opportunities overseas, its still very much an emotional sacrifice. This is especially true for Filipinas who grow up with strong familial ties.

I walked through the airport in a kind of daze trying to come to terms with my leaving the Philippines. Next thing I knew I was sitting in the departure lounge with a two hour wait before boarding the plane and entering the next stage of my life. While sitting there I thought of the year gone by and everything I had experienced kept on running through my head. I thought about Hilda and asked myself if I had handled things differently would she still be alive today. I thought about all the girls who had come into my life and the effect they had on me. I thought about some of the beautiful places I had seen and the new friends I had made. Most importantly I thought about how this country had influenced and changed me and I sincerely wondered if I would be able to adapt to life in gloomy old England.

I was lost in my own thoughts so much so that I barely registered the boarding announcement. Eventually I filed in line with the other passengers and all to soon I was sitting in my seat watching the airline stewardess go through the safety procedures in case of an emergency. This particular demonstration really hit home for me because it was a glaring reminder that my time in the Philippines had come to an end and I was now entering a new stage of uncertainty in my life. I honestly felt like the Philippines was my new home and leaving it was like leaving a loved one.

One of my pet peeves is my inability to sleep when traveling. I can be dead tired and yet still cannot sleep on planes. This trip was to be no exception. Within an hour after takeoff the lady sitting next to me was sound asleep but I was left there literally twitching my thumbs. I remember listening to the piped in music for 2 hours trying to sleep, I remember turning my nose up at some vial concoction they tried to pass off as airline food. I remember watching two movies and being singularly unimpressed with both. Most of all I remember sitting for hour after tedious hour thinking about what I had left behind and pondering what was awaiting me in my uncertain future.

This whole trip flying towards England was now somewhat surreal for me. When I had left Australia initially I was planning a short stop in Asia but my end goal was to get over to England and hook up with Debbie. When I met Debbie in Australia I had felt an instant connection and genuinely believed this was the girl I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, but after experiencing the Philippines, the idea of being with Debbie was somehow nowhere near as exciting. In fact to be perfectly honest I couldn’t even remember what she looked like. The Filipina was now in my blood and somewhere deep inside I knew I would end up back in the Philippines.

For some reason it took close on 21 hours for the flight to reach Frankfurt which was to be our first stop. I remember thinking well now I know why the Filipino’s say the acronym PAL means Plane Always Late. We touched down in Frankfurt where we were told it was going to be a 3 hour stopover and instructed to disembark and enjoy the transit lounge that had been dedicated to us in Frankfurt airport.

After having lived in the Philippines for the last year being in Germany was nothing short of a jarring culture shock. The signage was in German, the people were speaking German with a spattering of English, the people seemed inordinately large and it was cold, very, very cold. The transit lounge was centrally heated but still I could clearly see the frost on the windows and the mounds of snow outside. What really struck me about Germany was that it seemed so clean organized and efficient. In some ways this was a rather pleasant change from the disorganization that is the Philippines, yet in another way it was somehow sterile even antiseptic like. This was indeed a far cry from the chaotic Philippines and I knew right then and there I was going to have some trouble adapting to life in England.

After three hours which seemed like an eternity we all filed back onto the plane and headed for merry ole England. The flight to England was a short one due to the able assistance of strong tail winds but whilst others seemed excited and relieved to be finally arriving, I was filled with trepidation. Thanks to my mothers timely phone call I had Debbie’s contact details plus I had the details of my various Aunts Uncles and grandparents who all resided in England, but still inside of me there was a sense of unease or perhaps just plain old nervousness.

We landed at Gatwick and within 30 minutes I had been processed through immigration and found myself standing next to a pay phone in the middle of Gatwick airport. I managed to find a money changer where I changed a few Australian dollars into British pounds and then proceeded to ring Debbie.

On my first two attempts there was no answer and I was beginning to get a little worried. I knew I could make my way into London and hopefully find a hotel for the night at a decent price but my instincts told me keep on trying to contact Debbie. I tried four times and then on what I had decided would be my last attempt she answered the phone.

When she answered and I said, “hi Deb it’s Martin and I’m at Gatwick. Any chance of a lift into town”, Debbie was silent for about five seconds. As it turned out my mother had contacted her and informed her of my imminent arrival but she was unsure of the exact date, so consequently hearing my voice on the end of a telephone line in England, was still quite a shock for her . After a brief conversation Debbie told me to wait in the main lounge and she would be there within the hour to pick me up and take me back to her place. The relief in my voice upon hearing this must have been clearly evident because Debbie laughed and said, “don’t worry Martin you wont have to sleep out in the cold on your first night in London. That would hardly make me the gracious host”. With that she let out a little giggle and said. “I’ll see you soon” and hung up the phone”.

Two hours later Debbie arrived at Gatwick. She came running across the room and literally hugged me saying “oh Martin it’s so good to see you. I was beginning to wonder if you would ever show, and now here you are”. To be honest I was both grateful for this warm heartfelt welcome and at the same time a little uneasy. How could I possibly tell this woman whom I had been so interested in 18 months before, what had happened to me. How could I explain to her that I had become Asianized and all this was somehow foreign to me now.
All these thoughts coursed through my mind as I hugged Debbie back and I wondered how the heck I was ever going to adapt to sunny ole England.

Originally I had planned to be in the Philippines for a maximum time period of one week and here I was one year later, still in the Philippines, still chasing nubile young Filipinas and generally having the time of my life. In retrospect I realize being in the Philippines for so long a period was irresponsible, a total waste of money and just downright unrealistic. But I was young, and living the ultimate hedonistic lifestyle, was just to much for me to resist.

In Australia they would probably describe it as being “cunt struck” or as the older generation would say, I was “sucked in by the power of the pouch”, but for me there was something more. Yes the availability of casual sex was the overriding lure, but beyond that, there was just something about the Philippines and the lifestyle it afforded me that was like an addictive drug. I was hooked big time and like a heroin addict I existed solely for my next fix.

Some people have referred to this as ‘living the dream’ and the more I think about it, the more I realize how appropriate this saying is. This really was a dream life. I had a seemingly inexhaustible supply of young women on tap, I could drink and party every night and best of all I was becoming immersed in a foreign culture that seemed to be non judgmental and hedonistic to the extreme.

The reality of course was quite to the contrary, but at the time I couldn’t see that and I just existed from one party night to the next, from one girl to the next. In years to come people would often ask me how I could throw my life away like this, and my answer would always be, “because I can”. They would also ask me “given the time over again would you do anything different” and my answer was always “yes there are a few things I would have done differently, but one things for sure, whatever I would be doing, I would be doing it in the Philippines”.

In a way I had become like a Filipino, I lived for the day and pushed any thoughts of tomorrow into some far away recess at the back of my mind. I was totally at home living the mongers lifestyle and the Philippines accepted me, as much as I embraced it.

When David said to me my mother had been calling this actually sent a little chill down my back. It wasn’t because I was scared but rather because I couldn’t think how to explain to her what I had been doing and the lifestyle I had been living. To be honest I knew she was going to ask when are you coming home and I was dreading having to explain to her that I had no desire to come home and live a so called normal life. The thought of doing a nine to five job in the so called normal world was for me a concept that literally filled me with revulsion.

Having lived the hedonistic, sexually gratifying mongering lifestyle for one straight year, I was now addicted. I had changed physically and psychologically. I had never really fitted into mainstream Australian society to begin with and after getting a prolonged taste of life in the Philippines there was no going back for me.

I was a man without a country. I was a man without any definite plans and without any sense of direction. I was a man existing in the sexual twilight zone and I treasured every second of it.

That night I did the rounds but somehow it just seemed something was missing. For some reason I just couldn’t get into the swing of things and three hours later I found myself walking back to the Mayfair alone.

I was strolling down M.H.Del Pillar studiously avoiding eye contact with the scantily clad sexually enticing door girls when suddenly I found myself outside Rosies dinner scoping the place out. I carefully surveyed the inside and finding nothing of interest was about to walk back to the Mayfair when suddenly I felt a little tug on my sleeve and a sweet feminine voice said, “honey I miss you”. Somewhat taken aback I turned round and there beside me was a dolled up Lisa.

I remember making some glib reply along the lines of, I bet you say that to all the boys and then next thing I knew I was walking back to the Mayfair hand in hand with Lisa. Back in those days I would often walk the streets at night which in retrospect was probably a stupidly dangerous thing to do, but for some reason I never encountered any problems. The girls were always a little bit hesitant to walk but I just put that down to laziness.

That night with Lisa was actually quite memorable. We had been together before or as the girls like to say we had tasted each other before, but rather than being a negative our prior experience with each other worked in our favor.

I understand the mans need for a new conquest and I understand why a girl being “new” is so important but conversely sometimes the fact that you have sexual history together can be a good thing. The value of newness is one thing but often the lack of newness is more than compensated for by the fact that the couple is sexually compatible and they know exactly what each other likes. This was certainly the case with Lisa and two hours later found me luxuriously lying on the bed smoking a cigarette, feeling spent and satiated.

I can still remember watching the tendrils od smoke gently waft through the air, and then as I turned aside to gulp in the site of this beautiful young Filipina lying naked on the bed next to me, I thought to myself, how can I ever give up this life, there’s no way I am going home unless I have no other option. I knew when I spoke to my mother some hours later that I would get pressure to come home, but at the same time I felt deep in my bones, going home was not an option. I drank in the sight of beautiful Lisa one more time and resolved then and there that I would do whatever it took to stay and live in the Philippines.

I woke at about 10:AM and proceeded downstairs for my regular breakfast of fresh mango and a cup of coffee. While enjoying my breakfast David Goldshaft sauntered up to my table and said “don’t forget to call your mum mate, she seemed a little worried”. Up until that reminder I had conveniently put the idea of ringing mum at the back of my mind and now here was David bringing it back to the front and reminding me of my responsibility.

Okay I thought to myself I really cannot delay the inevitable so I gulped down my coffee and followed Dave into his office where I could make the phone call.

To be truthful my mother was not at all hostile and her main concern was her errant sons lack of communication. She gently chided me for my infrequency of communication and then said “by the way Martin I have a letter from Debbie with her address in England and telephone number. Please get a piece of paper, write it down and make contact with her. She has been waiting for you for 3 months now”.

Prior to coming to the Philippines I had met an English girl traveling round Australia. We had hooked up for a while and I had become something like her unofficial tour guide. She had been in Australia close on 9 months and although there was never any sex we had hit it off immediately and the sexual current between us was always there just beneath the surface.

My original plan had been to come to the Philippines then travel the rest of Asia indulging in my wander lust but that had all flown out the window as my love affair with the Philippines slowly but surely developed. After all I had been through in the space of just one year I felt like I belonged here and the so called real world had lost a lot of its attraction for me.

I still liked Debbie but I couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like meeting her again. Would we still have the electricity between us, had I changed, had my perspective on life changed, had she gotten involved with somebody else, how would I cope without the instant availability of sexual gratification? All these questions and hundreds more coursed through my mind and I found myself actually debating whether or not I should go to England.

That night I stayed in the hotel with Lisa and to say I was preoccupied was somewhat of an understatement. It was about 8:PM and David Goldshaft together with Ken returned from their bar hop to find me sitting in the Mayfair courtyard nursing my third San Miguel beer. David looked at me, looked at Ken and then they made their way to my table.

David and Ken both pulled up chairs beside me and then David in his most sincere tone said, “listen Marty I know it’s none of my business but I couldn’t help but overhear some of your conversation and I really have to get this off my chest”. By this time I felt like I knew David and trusted him but he was not someone who was particularly close to me as our friendship up to this point had been mostly based on the mongering lifestyle we both had in common. As such I was a little bit surprised by the gravity of his tone and the obvious concern for my well being that he was expressing.

My surprise obviously registered on my face but David had warmed up to his task and was now committed to saying what was on his mind. “I just want you to realize Marty that the Philippines and the girls will always be here. This place is like a drug and it gets under your skin to the point where some reach no return. If I was you I would get my arse to England go and see this bird Debbie and carry on traveling. There is no need stay here mate, you are young, you have your whole life ahead of you, so go and experience it. Besides this will always be here in one form or another and after experiencing other countries you will appreciate it even more when you return”.

Wow you could have knocked me down with a feather and I just sat back trying to absorb what he had just told me. I must have sat there speechless for about one minute when Ken Carbry suddenly piped up and said “Daves right mate this is a place to enjoy as a holiday. Keep it as your secret place, your dark side but do not let it blind you to the light of other places. This will still be here if you decide to return and you will have no problem picking up from where you left off”.

Now they had double teamed me and as much as I didn’t like the message they were conveying I realized their words were well meant and the advice they were giving me was what they genuinely thought was my best option.

I looked both of them in the face and replied, “thanks guys”. “I know you are telling me this because you have my best interests at heart and deep down inside I know you are right but still it’s fucking hard to leave this place. This is almost like my home”. Upon hearing this Ken smiled and replied “mate this is home for all of us but for myself and David it’s to late. There’s nothing for us in the real world but that’s not the case for you. Get out of here go see what life’s about and if you return this will still be here”.

So there it was, some heartfelt advice from two mates who had obviously been in my shoes before. After having said their peace Ken and Dave rose from their chairs and said, “see you in the morning mate and please give our advice some thought”.

Shortly after I rose myself and went back up to my room. As I entered Lisa looked up from her engrossing Filipino movie, stared at my face and asked, “you have problem honey”, to which I replied sure do babe, looks like I’m out of here. It’s time for Martin to be leaving on a jet plane”.

A “service” to Manila, now there’s a thought I said to myself. I looked at the guard and tentatively inquired how much is your “brothers service”? A nod is as good as a wink for the Filipinos and straight away this guard knew he had me hook line and sinker, but to his credit he played it cool and showed only minimal interest. Some Filipinos know that if they come on to strong or appear to keen the foreigners guard goes up, but this guy was just perfect, Looking back I should have taken him to play poker at the casino, but I was young and inexperienced so for him I was easy pickings. The guard knowing that he had got me replied, “sir Martin, my brother nice service and cost something like 800 to Manila”. Upon hearing his answer I started doing the mental arithmetic in my mind. I figured a trike to the bus was probably 100 the bus itself was another 120 and the taxi in Manila was another 200 total plus allowing for another 100 for food and drink during the arduous journey. Total to Manila 520 on the bus versus 800 for a personally driven car with decent air conditioning, far fewer people and probably quicker. I weighed the options in my mind and figured it was much better to brave the endless Manila traffic from the comfort of an air conditioned car, and since it was only 280 peso more why not spoil myself.

With the deal done the guard smiled at me and said “for a while sir”, then scurried inside to the receptionist desk where he made a phone call presumably to his brother the driver then strolled back and said, “ten minutes sir”. Now I don’t know how many of you are familiar with the concept of Filipino time but basically put it means they are always late, and the ten minutes will be more like twenty. At the time I was still a novice so I took him literally, smiled and sat down on the steps of the Maharajah waiting for the transport to arrive. I sat there for what must have been about 15 minutes and just as I was about to inquire of the guard where the driver was a when beat up old Tamaraw entered the driveway and the guard proudly announced “my brother here now”.

There is a great song by one of my favorite artists, Gary Clark Jr, that goes something like this “bright lights big city, you’re going to know my name” which exactly summed up my feelings about Manila. The lights weren’t so bright because of the perpetual layer of smog that hung over the city, but in Manila there was that unmistakable vibe, a sleazy yet tremendously alluring and intoxicating buzz, that attracted sex tourists from all corners of the globe. Manila was the sort of city where people from all walks of life would rub shoulders, it was a place where one could get lost whether one wanted to or not. It was a place where one had to struggle to make himself known, to stand out, or else go unnoticed and uncared for, lost in the swathe of humanity. This was a broiling hotpot simmering in a sauce of contradictions. This city was a mix of sex, poverty, hatred, and hardship, juxtaposed with a brilliant nightlife, a fast paced social scene, conspicuous wealth, and ironically, real friendships.

The Tamaraw was not exactly what I would call the epitome of modern motor vehicles, in fact it was a dilapidated old bomb but the guard seemed inordinately impressed and swore that it would get me down to Manila “walang problema”. I looked at the obsequious driver, looked at the van and thought to myself, it’s to late to go back on my decision now and besides this could be an interesting adventure. I climbed in the front seat asked the driver to crank up the rickety old air conditioner and with a cheerful smile and a wave to the Maharajah guard, we were on our way.

One thing I have noticed about Filipinos is that once they have a material possession such as a car they will run it until it can’t be run anymore. In western countries a new car is normally good for 2 or 3 years then its time to upgrade by purchasing a new car, but in the Philippines the opposite is true. The idea is to get maximum usage out of the vehicle and spend as little on maintenance as humanly possible.

This particular car was a classic example of that philosophy and as we negotiated the bumps and ditches with the suspension creaking in pain, I wondered if we would ever make it down to Manila. The driver whose name was James did not seem to share my concerns and he seemed oblivious of the cars condition as he merrily hummed along to some ancient love song that was blaring from the radio. We traveled for about half an hour through what resembled what I thought of us a lunar landscape. Huge hills of lahar dwarfed the van and the road was a dusty pothole ridden trail, more suited to four wheel drives and lunar surface vehicles than an ancient diesel Tamaraw. To be honest I was quite apprehensive but James seemed oblivious to my concerns and seemed to negotiate his way without a care in the world.

Finally after what seemed like a lifetime we hit the asphalt covered highway and I began to relax, or so I thought. Back then the NLEX didn’t exist. It was merely called the National Highway which is by far a more accurate description than an expressway. All the way to San Fernando it was a single carriage way road and of course the traffic was a nightmare. It seemed no matter what time of day or night, this road was always busy. The main cars seemed to be vans and owner type jeeps with the occasional Mitsubishi Lancer thrown in. But no matter what your car one thing was for sure, the busses ruled the road. If you have ever done some road traveling in the Philippines you will know exactly what I mean when I say the busses are kings of the road. Traveling by road in the Philippines today is a precarious adventure but back then it was nothing short of a life and death adventure. The busses were the biggest vehicles on the road and they knew it. They would overtake seemingly at will continuously forcing on coming traffic off the road. While overtaking and occupying the other lane they would flash their lights at on coming cars as if to say, hey I’m bigger than you so get out of the way. Somehow Filipinos seem to think that flashing their lights automatically gives them the right of way even though they are on the wrong side of the road. Upon reflection I wonder why there aren’t more fatalities on the roads and I guess the answer is the drivers all seem to subliminally understand how things work and act accordingly.

As we reached San Fernando James announced “Sir I get diesel but you be the one to pay”. I asked why should I pay to which he replied, “because you are my passenger sir”. I thought to myself that’s exactly right and that’s why I shouldn’t have to pay but with true Filipino logic he seemed convinced that my status as a passenger meant that I would foot the bill. Rather than press the issue I decided to go with the flow and asked him how much will you need to which he replied, “maybe 300 piso like that Sir”. We pulled into a gas station where he pumped 300 piso worth of diesel into the tank and in under a couple of minutes we hit the road again heading towards the big smoke Manila.

While in the Tamaraw the time seemed to pass so slowly and it wasn’t long before I began to feel drowsy despite the Kamikaze bus drivers. I think I must have nodded off because next thing I knew the Tamaraw had pulled over and we were stationary on the roads shoulder with a load of Filipino families climbing into the back of the van. I thought to myself this is a bit weird and asked James, “why are we taking on more passengers” to which he replied, “I am the service Sir”. Within minutes we were on the way again except now with a horde of jabbering Filipino families in the back. Everywhere you go in the Philippines it seems that there are always children present and this situation was no exception. The adults were vaguely intrigued by my presence and I am sure they were commenting about me in Tagalog but the kids were literally transfixed. They couldn’t keep their eyes of me and then it dawned on me that I was quite possibly the first white man they had seen in real life.

Being the object of curiosity wasn’t exactly a first for me since in my time I had done a fair bit of traveling but these children took it to a whole new level. I could feel their stares drilling holes in the back of my head so I turned round to face them and said, “hello my name is Martin”. This sudden yet friendly approach seemed to set the kids back a little bit but one little boy overcame his shyness and replied in halting English, “same same name as singer”. He was referring to Martin Rivera but at the time I had no idea who Martin Rivera was so I simply smiled and said, “yes me famous singer but not in Philippines”. Upon hearing this and deciding this was obviously my feeble attempt at humor they seemed to relax somewhat and next thing I knew I was involved in a halting dialogue with these people telling them about my life and learning about theirs.

It was during this conversation that I decided once again English is a wonderful language. I mean here I was thousands of miles from my homeland in the middle of nowhere making new friends with people whose world was totally different from mine except for one common bond, that of the ability to communicate in English, albeit in a very limited way. I am not sure how long we conversed and I am certainly not sure how much of what I was saying they understood but it certainly helped to pass the time while traveling to Manila.

We must have traveled about 20 kilometers when James pulled over to the side of the road again and the Filipino men handed him ten peso each before disembarking. After they got out the entire group stood at the side of the road, smiled waved and said, “goodbye Martin”. This event epitomized to me one of the aspects of Filipinos that I really admire. They seem to have a genuine friendly streak, a natural curiosity, and the ability to accept people who are completely different to them. Of course this does not apply to all Filipinos but generally speaking among the poorer provincial people this is often the case.

From Venezuela to the Balintawak toll gate we were in virtually grid locked traffic but James seemed unperturbed as he sand along to Air Supply and songs from Bread. At this stage I was having visions of the old Tamaraw overheating and us being stuck on the highway breathing in the thick layer of carbon dioxide that gushed forth from the seemingly never ending procession of traffic but James was oblivious to my fears and carried on without a care in the world.

Getting through Manila was not exactly precarious because the traffic was so dense vehicles never got a chance to build up any speed. While traveling through Manila I got a chance to observe what this city was really like and the diversity of it really hit home. In some sections there were beggars in squalid rags knocking on car windows with eyes reflecting the drudgery and pain of every day life, there were heavy industrial areas where people worked 12 hour days for a handful of worthless pesos, and there were crime ridden areas where ones life could be snuffed out like a candle, Everywhere I looked drab grey concrete buildings with a layer of grime seemed to proliferate and hanging over everything was the omnipresent humidity and heat.

Life was hard in Manila, and observing how people lived here, I was reminded how privileged my childhood had been. After about an hour of traveling through the city we arrived at the MayFair on Mabini Street and I instantly felt a sigh of relief that I had actually made it without any major mishap. I paid James his 800, hefted my bag onto my shoulder and made my way into the Mayfair courtyard where I settled down to a nice cool Mango shake.

The Mango shake was excellent and I sat there just chilling, perfectly content with everything in my little world until a rather loud voice woke me from my reverie and I looked up to see a smiling David Goldshaft saying, “mate your mother has rung three times looking for you. I think you better get on the blower and see what’s up”.

The dinner at the Maharajah was not exactly spectacular when it came to the quality of food and I rapidly became a fan of the chicken adobo with rice because this was about the only thing they couldn’t fuck up. Well that’s not quite true, their French toast was pretty good, but apart from that the food was woeful.

Having my dinner with one girl and being served by a girl I had been with the night before, was more than a little bit awkward, and Maria who was doing the serving whilst not openly hostile, was certainly churlish. In fact after she had taken the order and disappeared my date said, “what problem to that girl. I think she don’t like to me but I never see her before”. Now I wasn’t about to explain why Maria was like this so I simply said, “maybe she just have menstruation”. This seemed to satisfy her and I let out a quiet sigh of relief.

We had a good dinner and during the course of it I learned her name was Madonna and she was a student studying nursing. Madonna was really pleasant company and I found myself becoming more and more engrossed by her simplistic yet profound attitude towards life in the Philippines. As the dinner finished I offered to walk her out to the jeepney and it was then that she turned to me and said, “Martin I have small problem”. If a girl says that to me nowadays my instant reaction is to think here comes the money request, but back then I wasn’t as experienced so I simply replied, “really darling what’s the problem”? “I no place to sleep” she replied slowly and went onto explain how she had relatives or something visiting from the province and there was no room in her house for her. I found this a little bit weird thinking to myself if it’s your house simply move someone but at the same time I realized this could be a golden opportunity, so I suggested she stay the night with me and the other girls. Madonna seemed a little bit taken aback by this suggestion and said, “I no do like that, can we get private”.

Well this was a very pleasant surprise especially since she had used the word “we”. Not being one to let an opportunity pass me by I quickly replied, “sure I will just go and check to see if they have any vacant rooms. You wait here and I will be back in a minute. I walked out to the reception area and asked the front desk lady, “do you have another room available for tonight”? The front desk receptionist looked a little worried by my request and replied, “why sir Martin, you have problem with your room”? I smiled at her and assured her my current room was fine but I had two girls using my bed which meant I would have no space and wouldn’t get any sleep. She gave me a look as if to say who does this guy think he is, but then smiled knowingly and replied, “yes sir Martin we have vacant room”. I explained that it was only for one night and I would pay the bill tomorrow which seemed fine for her and she handed me over the key.

I walked back to the restaurant and there was Madonna sitting demurely just gazing at the pool lost in her own thoughts. When I saw Madonna I took the opportunity to give her an extended appraisal and in so doing realized she was a truly beautiful woman who had a definite sense of style and class. Looking at her it was pretty obvious she wasn’t a girl who worked the bar and probably had little to do with the bar world, even if she was friends with Helen. For me bar girls have always served a valuable function and most of them know exactly what is expected but at the same time for most men this can become a little boring and we crave the challenge of a so called ‘good girl’. I think this is a result of our male ego, we reason that the bar girls are nothing special because they are having sex as part of their job, whereas with a non bar girl she is doing it because she genuinely likes us or she is just into sex. A second thing that goes through our mind is that we pander to our social conditioning and feel ashamed of the fact that we are having sex with prostitutes. For me I was always totally at home with the fact that I was paying for it but I know many guys who find the idea repulsive and just wrong.

I guess deep down inside we all want to feel we are something special and we like to feel there is some sort of emotional connection there, rather than having sex for sex sake. This is also an area where the Filipinas excel. Even the hardest core bar girl can offer you the girl friend experience and this for me is something which differentiates the scene from that of Thailand. In the Philippines the girls working the bar experience much the same dilemma as their customers. On the one hand it is business but on the other hand they live in denial and placate their feelings of guilt by attaching genuine emotions to the sex act. Best of all, even though both the customers and the bar girls have these contradictory realities it somehow all works and this scene is totally unique.

Once I had the room key I escorted Madonna down the long corridor and into the room. I opened the door, lead her inside and was just about to turn around and say goodnight, when next thing I knew she had planted an inescapable lip lock on me. To say I was surprised would be an understatement and as thoughts of the old maxim never judge a book by its cover coursed through my mind, I responded in kind knowing full well this was going to be a memorable night indeed.

Madonna was that classic mix of a shy inhibited young lady and a raging tornado of pent up sexual desire. She wasn’t an energetic lady but extremely passionate and most of the session she managed to keep a heavy petting session going. For her this was not just a job or having sex for money, she was genuinely enjoying this sexual encounter and I could tell it was both a physical and emotional experience for her. I am not 100% certain but I am pretty sure Madonna was a multiple orgasm woman and every five minutes or so she would arch her back, put her arms tightly round me and let out a series of moans.

My preferred style of fucking is almost like a ground and pound MMA fighter without the punches. I like being in control and my favorite position has always been ‘doggy style’, but Madonna was having none of this. For her it was strictly missionary position and she liked to control the pace. I would be pumping away when all of a sudden she would wrap her arms around me in a bear hug and grind herself against me. This was all very well but after my sexually demanding day I was going to need more than this in order to get off. After Madonna had seemed what endless orgasms she was pretty much spent so I suggested she turned round so I could do her from behind. Upon hearing this Madonna seemed genuinely worried and she whispered, “I never do like that before”. When I heard this I was instantly excited but I knew I couldn’t show her this so I simply replied “sweetheart there is a first time for everything and if you really want to make me happy you will let me make love to you like that”. Madonna seemed to ponder the guilt trip I had laid on her then tentatively turned over, got up on her knees and proffered her beautiful round bottom.

When I first entered Madonna from behind I did so slowly so as not to cause her any pain yet still she reached behind her and pushed me back saying “slowly please”. This of course turned me like crazy but at the same time I acquiesced to her request and slowly but surely inserted myself deep inside her. It was pretty obvious that Madonna had not been lying and this was her first time in this position because she was still tight and was experiencing a little pain with each penetrating thrust. For me this has always been a difficult one because on the one hand seeing a woman struggling to take you is a tremendous turn on but on the other hand actually causing them pain is a turn off and it is always a little difficult finding the middle ground. This was certainly the case with Madonna because every time I got into my stride she would ask me to slow down because it was “masakit”.

The doggy style session must have gone on for about 15 minutes but it soon became pretty obvious that Madonna wasn’t really into it and I doubted I would be able to cum anyway, so as a result I stopped and said, “sweetheart I am done, thank you”. Madonna looked at me a little surprised and a fleeting moment of disbelief crossed her features but she recovered quickly enough and said, “thank you honey ko, Madonna take bath now”.

As Madonna lithely arose out of the bed I had to have a little chuckle because rather than walk in front of me naked she wrapped a towel around her gorgeous little body. Here was a girl I had just shamelessly copulated with and yet she was shy to walk in front of me naked. I have come across this scenario with many Filipinas and the misplaced sense of modesty always amuses me.

After we had, had our respective showers I wasn’t quite sure what was going to happen but Madonna solved that problem for me by wrapping her arms and legs around me like an octopus and said, “Martin stay me”. Back then I thought this was kind of sweet and I saw it as being indicative of her insecurity not wanting to sleep in a strange room alone and I also saw it as a sign that she had a level of genuine affection for me. These days what has become commonly known as the octopus effect where the girl wraps her arms and legs around you, I find myself getting annoyed, but back then I thought it was kind of cute even if it meant little sleep. Ah the joys of youth.

The night with Madonna was certainly peaceful and good for a young mans soul yet by 8 AM: we were both awake and Madonna gave me a loving kiss as she headed out the door on her way to who knows where. I remember thinking I really like this girl and I wondered if I would ever see her again. Some years later I did run into her under rather strange circumstances, but that’s a story for another time. I watched Madonna walk down the corridor then suddenly remembered I had two more girls waiting for me in my room.

I made my way back to my original room, opened the door and there was Helen and Claire going down on each other. At this stage I was pretty spent but I was young and this was a sight good enough to raise the lust in any heterosexual man. Without a word I locked the door, took of my clothes and planted myself on the bed. The girls at this stage seemed oblivious to my presence and feeling left out I decided I couldn’t have these two have all the fun without me so I grabbed Clair who was on top and started humping her from behind.

When I first entered Claire she was a little surprised but with Helens tongue darting between my balls and her clit she soon got into the swing of things and it was another fabulous session. After we had finished the girls rushed off to have a shower while I decided the perfect way to start off my last day in Angeles was to have a swim and then a light breakfast.

After the swim I headed into the restaurant and ordered a fruit dish. I was soon joined by the two girls who ordered a Filipino breakfast which was basically bangus (a local fish) with rice. This was a really relaxing breakfast and as I sat there enjoying the idyllic surroundings and the girls chit chat I thought to myself, life could certainly be worse.

After breakfast I took the girls back to the room and gave them each 500 peso. When they received the money the girls seemed ecstatic and I instantly realized that I must have tipped to much. In those days the girls were happy with 2 or 300 hundred piso but I figured these girls had really put on a stellar performance so 500 each was the least I could do. After an almost tearful goodbye I packed up my belongings and headed out to the reception. On the way I ran into MayAnne who blatantly ignored me, settled up my food bill and then asked the doorman to get me a trike. The doorman asked where I was going and when I replied Manila he just laughed and said, “sir Manila is very far in trike. Maybe you need my brother car because he has a service”.

I looked at the waiter with what was obviously a questioning expression and asked. “what do you mean, Filipina have high blood”? The waiter smiled and replied, “last night your lady very high blood, she look knife, maybe kill to you”. Okay now this had me worried, I had already experienced first hand with Hilda how the Filipina can get, and I knew even though the waiter was smiling, this was no joking matter. I thanked the waiter for his information and headed back to my room to ponder things.

Once back in the room I realized it was now decision time. Should I stay in Angeles and risk the wrath of MayAnne or should I hightail it back to Manila. I pondered my decision for a few minutes and decided I hadn’t come all this way for nothing so I may as well have one more night in Angeles, if for no other reason than to get a feel for the place.

To be honest my impression of Angeles was that beyond bar hopping there wasn’t much to do during the day so I had better start my bar hop late, and this meant some laps and lying around the Maharajah pool. One thing I really liked about the Maharajah was that when staying there and lying around the pool one could almost forget one was in Angeles. It was just far enough away from the hustle and bustle of down town and lying around the pool it was very restful and good for the soul.

After about two hours of relaxing around the pool I decided it was time for a cold beer and a little bar hop. Within minutes I was ready and next thing I knew I was walking out of the Maharajah and along the street towards the seemingly ever waiting jeepney.

Back in those days the first major bar one hit on Fields when coming from Friendship direction was Stinger, so as I departed from the jeepney it seemed only logical that I stopped in Stinger. Stinger was a dingy little bar which had certainly seen better days, it was dirty, it was dimly lit, the CR was basic, the bar was stocked with beer and local spirits, the air conditioning was rudimentary, and the sound system sucked, yet every day it was busy with customers. When I first walked in and saw a bunch of guys in their forties and fifties chugging down beers and having a good old chin wag, I thought I had stumbled into a little backwater pub in Australia, and then I saw the stage.
Because of the now departed Mummy Lilly Stinger was one of these bars that always seemed to have hot girls. Lilly had this uncanny ability to recruit seriously hot and beautiful girls. How she did it nobody knew but she would come up trumps every time. All Stinger girls seemed to have tight, trim and hard bodies, and all were baby less. Lilly was the classic old school mamasan who was in some respects hard as nails and in other ways a genuinely soft and caring human being. In years to come I was to do a short stint in Stinger and working with Lilly was both a training experience and a pleasure.

Lilly also had that ability to find the new fresh girls who once on the program would go onto become the superstars of their day. Nobody was really sure how Lilly did it and I got the impression even she wasn’t exactly sure what her secret was. But her recruitment skills were only half of her strength, Lilly also controlled the girls brilliantly. When she leveled them with her, ‘don’t even think about it bitch’ glare, the hardest core, craziest girls, would become like submissive little puppy dogs. She always trod the line between authoritarian and caring mother figure extremely well and when she passed on, this was in my opinion, an end of an era.

Stinger was owned by the somewhat infamous Gary S – – – – who was a hard arse Australian individual and yet he and Lilly seemed to have this unfathomable respect for each other, Gary or “Sadam” as the girls would refer to him, liked to keep things basic, and he was noted for his simplistic approach of “cold beer and hot pussy” is all you need in an Angeles bar. This approach was complimented by Lilly who would supply the good looking girls and together they had this little bar rocking. Gary S was always one to push the limits and among the first to always increase prices. When I asked him about this a few years later he replied, “Marty we got the best sheilas in town, the coldest beer in town and the best bar, so fuck em, Stinger will always charge more than those other cunts”.

There was one other major attraction of Stinger and that was the girls would dance topless. In today’s environment I often hear the more longer term mongerers complaining that the girls are covered up and they can’t see what her body is really like. In Stinger this was never a problem, and customers knew exactly what the girls bodies were like. The customers loved the fact that the girls danced topless and the girls themselves soon got used to it and felt absolutely no embarrassment.

I remember walking in and initially wondering why all these guys were hanging out here but when I looked at the stage it all became very evident. Taken slightly aback by this beautiful display of female flesh paraded before my eyes, I simply stood in the doorway for ten seconds with mouth agape, thinking to myself, “fuck me I wonder how long this has been going on”.

Presented with a display of firm willing brown flesh any hetro-sexual man is going to enter the bar and that’s exactly what I did. Keeping one eye on the stage and another on my path I managed to make it to the first bar stool where I plonked my arse down and straight away this topless ravishing beauty smiled at me and jiggled her tits in my face. I remember the waitress coming up beside me and asking, “what you like drink sir” and without taking my eyes from the girl in front of me I mumbled, “one beer please”.

Now at this stage I had, had a little bit of experience in the Philippines but compared to these Stinger girls who were barely 18, I was a babe in the woods. These were young women but they got on the program quickly and once you looked past their youthful features and into their eyes, the disparity became all to apparent. As a good friend of mine Mr Jung likes to say, “it’s not the years but the mileage”, and these girls even though young, had certainly seen some miles in terms of life experience.

I sat there in Stinger making eye contact with as many as I could but when you have tits flaunted in front of you it’s kind of hard to make eye contact. Even though some of these girls were really good looking and I was sorely tempted to chat to a few, I decided to just sit there and enjoy a few beers as I got a feel for the place. I was enjoying flirting with the girls when all of a sudden this tall girl with legs all the way to heaven, stepped onto the stage and whatever resistance I had mustered simply evaporated and next thing I knew I was calling her down and buying her a drink as she gyrated on my crotch.

The girls name was Helen and for a Filipina she had deliciously long legs and of course beautiful silky smooth skin with a very attractive face. As soon as she came down off the stage rather than sit next to me she chose to sit on my lap and gyrated her bottom against my crotch and then giggled as I inevitably rose to the occasion.. Helen knew exactly what she was doing and even though my bar hop had only just started, I found myself contemplating paying her bar fine. When bar hopping a common problem is deciding what to do. If you meet a hot girl who seems to connect with you physically then it is tempting to pay her bar fine and get down to business, but on the other hand in the back of your mind is the thought that, maybe there will be someone I like even more in the next bar. This is what I call the bar hoppers dilemma and this is what struck me as Helen grinded herself against me.

Now don’t get me wrong here this is certainly not a bad dilemma to have, but at the time I had only a little experience and I was genuinely confused. I gave the matter some serious thought and then asked Helen if I could pay her bar fine but I would come back later and pick her up. Helen gave me a beautiful smile and replied, “walang problema”.

After I left Stinger I had a strange feeling of contentment and security and I knew this was going to be a special day. I wandered down the street just taking it all in while avoiding the enticing calls of the door girls. I must have strolled for about twenty minutes and next thing I knew I found myself by a little bar in Santos Street. In those days A.Santos street, or blow road as it is commonly called by those in the know, was little more than a dirt road with a smattering of cheap sleazy bars that resembled the huts of a shanty town, yet if you hit it at the right time there was that undeniable vibe about the place.

Santos street was never exactly up-market and there was always a sleazy element to it. Most of the girls found their way there from Leyte or Samar, and there was always the ever present lady boys. The lady boys were not exactly attractive, but they did perform the valuable function of teaching the girls the finer points of oral sex. In fact it was common for the new girls on Santos Street to attend a sort of blow job seminar where the lady boys would give a blow by blow account of the different techniques, and demonstrate them using a banana.

I slowly wandered down Santos Street just observing the bars while ignoring the constant entreaties of the lady boys to come inside. I was about half way down when all of a sudden I spotted this vision of loveliness sitting in a small bar on the right hand side of the road. I glanced over and smiled and in return she flashed a dazzling smile in my direction and next thing I knew I was sitting in the little bar, ordering a beer for me, and a drink for my new found friend.

As I surveyed the little bar it struck me this bar was a really weird design. Down the center of the bar was what looked like a large counter top with curtains acting as drapes. There was no other seating available in the bar and I thought to myself whoever designed this bar must have been drunk or maybe in days gone by this counter top served as a stage where the girls danced. I engaged the girl in small talk all the time noting the mischievous gleam in her eyes but this illogical design still bothered me so I asked her, “why do they have a table running down the length of the bar”? I am not sure my new found friend understood my question, because in answer she slipped through the curtains, crawled underneath the table, and next thing I knew a pair of hands was undoing my jeans, and reaching inside my underpants. I jumped back a little bit startled and then her beautiful face popped up from beneath the table and with a licentious look the like of which I had never seen before, she said, I give handsome sample 300 peso only”.

At first I had no idea what she was talking about and then suddenly the penny dropped and I realized she was offering to give me a blow job right there in the bar. As the realization of her offer dawned on me I actually felt a little embarrassed, I mean I am not normally one for public displays, but then once again her hands were down my pants and suddenly all thoughts of embarrassment disappeared. I sat there at the table enjoying this young lady’s oral administrations hoping that nobody would walk in, and just as I was about to explode she stopped, popped her head up from beneath the table and said, “you make finish 500 peso”.

Looking back on this I realize what a clever marketing technique this was, I mean what man in his right mind will be able to say no. I remember murmuring something along the lines of, ‘sure babe no problem, just don’t stop now’, and next thing I knew she was back under the table sucking on my dick like there was no tomorrow.

I have always prided myself on my “staying ability” but the oral skills of this girl were quite simply amazing and it wasn’t long before I once again felt the euphoric rush of orgasm coursing throughout my body. When I had finished I was absolutely spent and I just sat there gripping the table top asking myself did this really happen. I Must have had a big contented smile on my face because the girl suddenly popped her head up from beneath the table and giggled as she announced, “you pay 500 now”. I fumbled around in my pocket dug out my wallet and handed over 500 peso which she quickly grabbed and ran to the back of the bar with.

As I sat there completely drained I pondered what had just happened. In a way I felt ecstatic and thought to myself, now that’s why I’m in the Philippines, but on the other hand, because of my social conditioning in Australia I felt a little bit dirty, cheap, and even used. This was an interesting mix of feelings for me and I think nearly everyman who experiences this for the first time has the same contradictory thoughts. On the one hand I really appreciated the simplicity and honesty of it all, but on the other hand I also realized it was meaningless for her and just a means of making money.

To this day I still struggle with conflicting feelings and in some ways I love the fact that these girls are having sex for money but on the other hand I still look for some sort of feeling or closeness. Whether they admit it or not, I think most men experience exactly the same thoughts, but at least in the Philippines it is done nicely and there is always that thin veneer of a genuine connection between the giver and the receiver.

After I paid my drinks bill I decided to do a little more exploring before going back to pick up Helen from Stinger. To be honest I knew I would need a couple of hours to restock my energy and there was no better way to do this than by sitting in a bar enjoying a nice cold beer or two. I strolled back up Santos Street towards Fields and on the way I felt like all the girls and lady boys were laughing at me. It was like they knew exactly what had just happened and as such never even bothered trying to entice me inside.

I wandered slowly up Santos street, turned the corner onto Fields and decided to enter the Hobo Bar (now La Bamba). Inside was dimly lit and there were about 5 girls dancing on a little stage. There was no girl there that caught my attention but that was fine for me because I was completely drained anyway and just wanted to enjoy a quiet beer. I sat there for about twenty minutes watching the girls and enjoying the beer. With the beer finished a good looking waitress came over and asked would I like another one but I had decided a new venue was in order so I paid the bill and headed out the door. By this stage I was feeling pretty good and as I parted the curtains to leave I bumped into a guy and a girl walking in. I mumbled my apologies and the guy replied, “fuck you Martin you dickhead”. Taken aback I focused on the guy I had just bumped into and was confronted with an angry looking Wally holding hands with an even angrier looking MayAnne.

At first I was a bit puzzled wondering what the girl was doing there standing in my doorway but it soon sunk in when she said, “I go with you”. Now I may not be the quickest on the uptake but at the same time I am not about to knock back an opportunity like this when it presents itself, so without further ado I smiled at her and said, “come on in darling”. The girls name was Maria and the first thing she did was sidle up next to me and plant a hesitating yet very passionate kiss on my lips. I of course responded and we probably stood there for about 1 minute locked in our lovers embrace.

After the kiss Maria pulled away and said, “I bath, you here” then delicately slipped into the bathroom. Maria must have been about twenty minutes in the bathroom which was fine with me because I needed the time to sober up so I could enjoy this unexpected event. After the bathroom Maria walked across the room and turned off the lights but left the bathroom light on with the door slightly ajar.

With the mood now set to her liking she proceeded to climb into bed and snuggle up to me under the bed cover. Maria was perhaps the softest gentlest most feminine Filipina I have ever had the pleasure of being with and before we got into the deed she pulled me on top of her for another prolonged kissing session. Now I am not much of a kisser but Maria’s sweet voluptuous lips were enough to make even the most inexperienced kisser seem like a professional and kissing her was definitely one of the early highlights of my stay in the Philippines.

After about 3 minutes of kissing I felt myself getting rock hard and decided to push my luck so to speak and enter her. I pushed but nothing seemed to happen. Not really understanding what the barrier was I pushed again only to once again meet with resistance. At this point I was wondering what I was doing wrong when suddenly I looked down and saw Maria giggling. Still thinking I was doing something wrong I started to apologize to her which only caused her to giggle harder.

Feeling somewhat bemused and a little put off I rolled off Maria and said, “I know you think it’s funny darling but for me this is no laughing matter, and I am feeling very embarrassed”. I am not sure if Maria understood but in response she just smiled and said “I have panty me”. At first I didn’t understand but then it dawned on me she was still wearing her underwear. Being used to Australian and New Zealand girls who used to get right down to business I was pleasantly perplexed by the Filipina habit of wearing her panties to bed knowing full well that she was about to have sex. In the coming months I was also to notice the Filipinas peculiar habit of wrapping the towel around her and covering as much of her body as she could. These same girls would dance in revealing bikinis in the bar and licentiously cavort with strange men yet in the bedroom behind closed doors they were suddenly shy and virgin like. I can only assume that both modes of behavior are learned. In the bar they learn to work the bar and entice men to pay their bar fine, yet ironically in the bed room they initially revert back to the moral standards of their upbringing.

When Maria announced she was still wearing her underwear I was momentarily taken aback but recovering from my embarrassment quickly I said “well we better take those off then” and I proceeded to gently slide her underwear off her hips, down her legs and then off completely. At this stage I wasn’t the most experienced lover but even I knew enough to think this girl was obviously new to the game and probably had less sexual experience than me so I had better spend some time turning her on and getting her in the mood. I figured this was the least I could do since she was giving me such an unexpected gift just by being there.

Once Maria’s panties were off I moved back on top of her and began gently kissing her again. Maria was wonderfully responsive and pretty soon it was a torridly passionate lip lock that was obviously turning Maria on. Thinking that I had chosen the right course of action I slowly extricated myself from the lip lock and proceeded to gently kiss her neck, then her boobs and then her wonderfully flat stomach until I reached my target, her super sweet pussy.

While I worked my way down her body Maria was squirming and letting delicate little moans escape her passionate lips. Thinking to myself aha I have got this woman exactly where I wanted her I prepared to start licking her when suddenly she pushed me away. Now I was really perplexed and with a look of saddened bemusement etched on my features I asked her, “what’s wrong honey” and she replied, “I not do like that before”. Then it hit me I had been moving to fast, this was a girl who hadn’t had much experience sexually and I would just have to slow things down.
I looked at her sweet worried face in the half light and gave her my most reassuring smile. This seemed to mollify her a little bit and I then said, “honey I do this because I really like you and I want you to enjoy”. With that said I then gently opened her legs and descended on the most beautiful naturally bald pussy I had ever had the pleasure of encountering.

When I first started eating out Maria she was a little bit hesitant and I could feel her jerk spasmodically as my tongue gently flicked over her clit. These jerks would include a tightening of her whole body and she would cover her mouth to suppress the moans that were escaping through her lips. I gently caressed her and she became wetter and wetter. After about 5 minutes of my oral administrations Maria let out a deep moan and my face was literally drenched.

Obviously this was the first time Maria had experienced oral sex and since she had just had an earth shattering orgasm I decided now was the time to climb on top and do my thing. Wiping her bodily fluids off my face with my hand I climbed on top gave her a long passionate kiss and entered her. At first I was pleasantly surprised because even though she was extremely wet she was still tight and as I slid slowly in some more moans escaped through her now gritted teeth. I could see this was slightly painful for the poor girl so I decided to pull out but as I did she grabbed by behind and pushed me back in.

After about ten gentle strokes I was all the way in and Maria was urging me on. Now I don’t know about other guys but for me it has always taken me a long time to cum. Even when I lost my virginity to an Australian girl I was at it for about an hour before eventually finishing the deed. This was not because I am some kind of super stud but because I thought the girl was in pain so I kept stopping. Since that awkward experience I had grown up a lot and although far from a professional I now knew how to fuck and pleasure a woman.

As it turned out Maria was a little firecracker and more than willing to try out different positions. We must have been at it for about 20 minutes with me fighting back the explosion and being determined to prolong this delightful experience as long as I could when from some far of recess in my mind I thought I heard a knocking at the door. I momentarily paused but hearing nothing, carried on pumping away at Maria.
I was nearing orgasm when suddenly from by the door came a piercing scream and a rush of Tagolog vitriol. Being in a heightened state of expectation it didn’t sink in what was happening until an angry MayAnne was literally on top of me scratching at my face and trying to pull Marias hair.

Then it hit me I had forgotten to lock the door and now shit had hit the fan. Managing to extricate myself from Maria I quickly rolled off her and grabbed MayAnn’s now flailing hands. I held her tight and calmly asked “what is your problem”? Another stream of vitriolic Tagalog and then with seemingly super human strength she managed to get one hand free and promptly scratched my face. In reaction I grabbed her hands again and then with all my weight pinned her down on the bed.

I looked into MayAnne’s eyes and there was literally seething hatred burning a hole straight through me. I thought to myself I cannot keep this up for ever and I had better find another means to control her. With this thought in mind I rolled next to her, wrapped my legs around her in the classic leg lock, and kept hold of her hands. At first she struggled but soon realized that was pointless and slowly I felt the tension draining out of her.

My attention was totally on MayAnne at this point and I only saw Maria exiting through the front door in a sort of haze, the same cannot be said for MayAnne however. She was fully aware that Maria was leaving and exerted all her strength to get at her. Luckily I still had the leg lock around her body so there was no getting away and Maria managed to escape with dignity still intact and physically unharmed.

I have no idea how long I lay on the bed wrapped around May Anne and I remember thinking, ‘for God’s sake Martin don’t go to sleep or all hell will break lose’. It must have taken May Anne at least an hour to calm down and there was repeated little jerks as she tried to escape but I managed to hold her tight and she was going nowhere.

I have no idea what time it was that I drifted off to sleep and all I know is I woke up in the morning and the bed next to me was empty. With my brain still a bit fuddled from the beer I was having trouble remembering the events of the previous evening that is until I strolled into the bathroom to take a shower and caught a glimpse of three livid red scratches running down the right side of my face. Confronted with this image it all came flooding back and I rushed into the shower letting the cold water cascade all over me. After the shower I felt considerably better and decided to go outside and see if MayAnne was still around.

Somewhat sheepishly, and well aware of the scratches on my face, I made my way to the restaurant where I was greeted by two Filipino guys who motioned me to a seat and proffered me a menu. I knew these guys were secretly snickering at the scratches on my face but there was nothing I could do about it so I decided to act as if nothing had happened and ordered my breakfast.

The breakfast took about 15 minutes and I wolfed it down seemingly in a matter of seconds. With my breakfast finished I sat back, looked out over the pool and enjoyed my morning coffee. I had been sitting there for about ten minutes contemplating what my next move was when suddenly I became aware of the waiter standing next to me. I looked up at him and asked, “yes sir how can I help you” and in answer he grinned and said, “Mr Martin you be careful, Filipina have very high blood”.

By the time I had woken up and MayAnne had departed it was late afternoon and for some reason I was feeling kind of drained so I decided to stay in the hotel that night or if it got to boring to restrict my bar hopping activities to the immediate area around the Maharajah. To be honest I was little worried about running into Wally as his aggravation was something I didn’t need and I was also a bit hesitant to go back to the vicinity of Ziggys where MayAnne could lay claim to me again. This girl had already dug her fingers in and I wasn’t about to help her solidify her position.

At this stage of my short but illustrious mongering career I had decided that single life is the way to go and to forget about these relationships. Of course like most men, in the long run I was in the end unable to live up this creed, but it felt right at the time, and for the next five years I certainly tried to make mongering freedom my reality.

I decided a brisk dip in the pool would wake me up and maybe a few laps would get the blood flowing again, so I grabbed a towel and headed out to the pool. Being after 5 there was literally nobody else in the pool and I decided to make the most of the opportunity and swim a few laps. Growing up near the beach I had always been a competent swimmer and doing laps of a pool or swimming in the surf was a regular occurrence in my youth and I was completely unaware a large number of Filipinos cannot swim.

I dived in the pool and started gently swimming laps and after completing about ten I stopped for a breather and suddenly I felt eyes upon me. I looked around and sure enough there in the restaurant area were three women and two guys just staring at me. Not sure what had them so enthralled I simply smiled at them and waved to which I received a smile back from all of them and then they carried on their conversation with the occasional furtive glance in my direction.

After the swim I was feeling like a new man and I had definitely worked up a hunger, so I headed over to the restaurant area, only to come face to face with two of the women who had been watching me swim. When I saw them I smiled and said, “hello girls is there any chance I can order some food because all that swimming has made me hungry”. Both the young ladies looked away from me and turned their heads as they giggled. Right about now I wasn’t sure what to do so I just took a seat at one of the tables and said, “can I have a menu please”? This bought another series of giggles and both the girls scurried away leaving me sitting in the restaurant by myself.

I had been sitting there for about two minutes and was just about to get out of my seat and berate the staff for their non existent service when from behind some closed doors a man appeared and presented me with a menu. I surveyed the menu and to say it was limited would be an understatement. I looked at the guy who was standing beside me waiting for my order and said can you recommend something as I don’t see anything that really sparks my interest here”. He looked at me with a look of benign amusement on his features and replied, I recommend the pork and chicken adobo. Everybody like that. “Okay” I said, I will have the adobo and to drink I would like a coke please”.

He took my order, took back the menu and exited the restaurant, once again leaving me sitting there with my own thoughts. I had no idea how long the food would take and I was just about to go back to my room to get a book to read when from behind me I heard the giggling again. I turned around and there were the two girls just staring at me and giggling. By this time I was totally perplexed and rather than just ignore the situation I decided to confront them and find out what was so amusing. I got out of my seat and smiled at the girls then I asked, “would you ladies care to join me for a drink”?

The girls looked at me somewhat aghast and both just stood there giggling. Thinking they didn’t understand I made the motions indicating drinking and they both giggled again and slowly made their way towards my table. When they reached me I offered them each a chair which they hesitatingly took and I asked them very slowly, “what can I buy for you ladies to drink”? In response I got another giggle and then one of them replied, “we like sprite”.

With the ice partially broken I thought I was on a roll and I was just about to get up and hunt down a waiter when one of the girls said, “I be the one” and with that she rose and disappeared into the kitchen area. Literally 1 minute later she was back with two sprites which both the girls proceeded to sip on while staring and giggling at me. By this time I was a completely nonplused. I literally had no idea what was going on or why these girls were seemingly fixated with me but not being one to let a challenge like this get the better of me I decided to put in some work and find out what the heck was going on.

While I waited for my food we made halting small talk and I found out both the girls worked at the hotel in the kitchen. These two sweet young women must have been about 22 but both had the childlike sense of humor that made them seem so much younger. It was hard for me to ascertain just how much they understood because they would only speak English sparingly and most of the time would chat with each other in Tagalog and simply giggle.

After about 15 minutes my food was delivered and as the waiter approached our table I thought I detected a sour look on his face so I said to him, “hey mate you have been a really good waiter could I buy you a drink or something just to say thank you”. The waiter seemed a little nonplused by my sudden offer and after a quick chat with the girls he said to me in English, “sure why not but what we would really like is some food”.

Then it hit me, these guys probably see guests pigging out on food all the time while they have bugger all money to buy anything for themselves and as this realization dawned I made what turned out to be a very fortuitous decision. I looked at him squarely in the eyes and replied, “how many of you guys are there in the kitchen” to which he replied, “two more” and I said, “well if it’s allowed, how about I buy a meal for everyone here”. The waiter looked at me seemingly in shock and then as my offer began to sink in he replied, “for a while sir” and went scurrying back into the kitchen.

After what seemed like ages but was probably only a matter of minutes he returned and said, “sir if it’s okay to you we would like crispy pata”. At this stage I had no idea what crispy pata was so I simply smiled and replied, “that’s cool with me man, crispy pata it is”.

From that point on the night began to get interesting. It must have been about half an hour later when three Filipino guys came and joined our table bringing with them a huge dish of what looked like pork but with all the bones and fat still attached. I was in later years to learn this is what is called crispy pata and it is considered a delicacy here in the Philippines but at this stage I was still a ‘newbie’ and just going along with the flow.

The three guys joined our table and before long we were all getting along like a house on fire with everyone telling jokes and me relating stories about my country and also my experiences in the Philippines. The guys certainly seemed friendly enough and after the meal they suggested we have a few beers and play some cards. I asked the girls if they thought this was a good idea and each of them smiled and nodded their ascent. Within seconds there appeared 3 bottles of San Miguel in a bucket of ice and a fourth one that had already been opened along with a glass of ice.

Having come from Australia I considered drinking beer with ice sacrilegious but it was very obvious to me that this was how it was done in the Philippines and not wishing to offend the locals I simply decided to go with the flow and drink the beer over ice like they did.

No sooner had the beer appeared than the dishes were cleared away and a pack of cards produced. The guys told me this was a game called pusoy dos and asked if I knew how to play. I replied in the negative and said I would just watch a few hands first and see if I could pick it up. As it turned out Pusoy Dos is very similar to Jim Rummy but with a few extra twists and rules so it really wasn’t that hard for me to pick up. I watched about five hands as well as partaking in a chug of beer each time the glass was presented and I then felt I had got the basics of the game and it was time for me to join in.

The details of that night are a bit hazy as the beer seemed to be on a never ending tap and every 5 minutes the glass was in my hand with the Filipinos encouraging me to drink it down in one. To this day I am pretty sure I never won a single hand but then again it didn’t seem to matter because we were all having such a great time and the hours seemed to fly by.

Even though the communication barrier was very much in effect that didn’t seem to stop us from becoming friends and understanding each other. I was having a thoroughly enjoyable time with my new found friends when suddenly I noticed it was 1:AM and with the beer buzzing my head I announced that it was past my bedtime and I would see them all tomorrow.

Feeling somewhat drunk I raised myself to a standing position smiled at the girls and said good night politely, then I shook each guys hand and assured them we would play again tomorrow night. With goodbyes said I now stumbled back to my room which luckily for me wasn’t far away, I opened the door, turned on the light and then without even bothering to get undressed flopped on the bed.

I have no idea how long I lay there in a drunken stupor but I remember being woken up by a gentle but consistent knocking on my door. With blurry eyes and my head now throbbing with the beginnings of a massive hangover I made my way to the door, opened it and there standing in the open doorway with a mischievous smile on her face, was one of the girls whom I had been playing cards with.

Well you could have struck me down with a feather, I just couldn’t believe that MayAnne was standing before me in the Maharajah Hotel. “How did you get up here” I asked haltingly, and in response she simply smiled and replied, “I follow to you, MayAnne have trike driver friend so he give free ride”. I looked at her in abject amazement and said, “so you followed me all the way to the hotel. I thought you were going home”? With this May Anne simply smiled and replied “MayAnne stay Martin hotel”.

Obviously I wasn’t going to get any more information from MayAnne and even though it felt like I had my own little stalker I couldn’t get the images of her in bed out of my head so I capitulated and said ‘come on then let’s go look at my room”.

Even back in 1991 the rooms in the Maharajah had obviously seen better days and yet despite the signs of wear and tear there was something about them that just made people feel at home. It might have been the golden heavy drapes that kept the sunlight and noise out, it might have been the carpeting on the floor (which in those days was a rarity in Angeles hotels), it might have been the close proximity to the pool, it might have been the super comfortable beds or it might have been the air of sex that seemed to pervade the entire hotel. Whatever the reason, the Maharajah just automatically felt like a home away from home, and this is exactly what it would become in years to come.

Prior to the Pinatubo explosion the Maharajah had obviously been a booming short time hotel. They had over 100 rooms in this hotel and it was plain to see its previous market had been people coming off the base for short time. At this stage there was only 1 swimming pool and most of the good rooms fronted onto the swimming pool. In years to come I was to stay at the Maharajah literally hundreds of times and a group of us developed a loose and casual friendship with the key being our occupancy of the Maharajah Hotel.

As we entered the room MayAnne switched on the lights, explored the room a little bit which included bouncing on the bed and then pronounced her decision, “hotel good MayAnne like”. At this time there was no cable TV which didn’t seem to phase May Anne at all and it wasn’t long before she was comfortably lying on the bed watching an old tagalog movie on the rickety old television that looked like it had escaped from a 1980’s movie set.

Seeing MayAnne had made herself right at home and was not to be disturbed I unpacked my bag, changed into some shorts and made my way to the pool which lay shimmering in the sun. For me there has always been something special about the Maharajah swimming pool that separates it from other pools. In current times there are two pools one out front of the hotel facing Don Juico Road and one out the back. In those days there was only one and this was the pool in the back.

Looking at it on surface value there is nothing particularly special about the Maharajah courtyard and pool. I really cannot put my finger on it why this pool area was so special, but for me I automatically felt relaxed and at home. Around the pool it is all concrete except for the flower beds which boast a basic foliage including the hotel owners prized orchids. There are good old fashioned sun chairs which are perfect for the sun worshipers and the pool itself is about 25 meters long, maybe a bit less, and always seemed clean and refreshing.

Another features I really liked about this area was that it was so quiet. One could sit by the pool for literally hours basking in the sunshine then dipping in the pool when the heat became to much. It was so quiet almost verging on serene and with a little imagination, hotel patrons could easily forget they were in Angeles. The pool area is also adjacent to the kitchen/restaurant area and although the food at the Maharajah sucks patrons would invariably order snacks which they and their girl would enjoy poolside.

Last but not least, I really liked the fact that after leaving the pool it was only a short stroll, or in some cases a stumble, to ones room. This of course is nothing new in today’s environment with many modern day hotels having poolside rooms but back then it was almost like the hallmark of the Maharajah. The Maharajah has always played second fiddle to the Oasis but for me this just made it more attractive because it was a cheaper price, it was less pretentious and there was always a room there.

I strolled out of my hotel room leaving MayAnne to watch TV and procured one of the sun chairs right next to the far end of the pool. I had been lying there for about half an hour just relaxing and letting my mind wander reveling in the silence when suddenly I looked up and there was a waiter delivering a tray of food to my room. Knowing that I hadn’t ordered anything I was a bit confused and then it hit me MayAnne had figured out how to use the telephone and get room service. This was my first experience of the Filipina just helping herself but it certainly wasn’t going to be my last.

With the Filipina there is almost a sense of entitlement, and in most cases they seem to have no idea of expenditure. For many of them money is something which grows on trees in the foreigners home land. They automatically perceive foreigners as having unlimited funds, and as such it is no problem spending it, because there is always more where that came from.

There are also several social ideals attached to the consumption of food. For starters it sends a psychological message that all is okay in the world. If you have a full stomach then you have access to money and can survive for another day. This may sound silly but consider where they come from in a situation where anything more than fish with a bowl of rice is a luxury, and you begin to understand. Secondly eating is a social occasion and because food is a luxury it is often shared. This is something like the Filipinas sharing their blessings or their good fortune. I saw this logic in action last year when I walked past the TV and there was Manny Pacquiao showering people with money on some sort of game show. Out of interest I asked the instant Filipino family what was going on and they replied that this was Manny’s way of “sharing his blessings”. Obviously this sharing did not work particularly well as the tax man is now after Pacquiao for his share but it was an interesting insight into Filipino culture.

I sat there in the sun chair and watched the tray of food disappear and pondered the situation for a while then made up my mind to go and talk with MayAnne about her taking me for granted. I walked into the room and was about to give MayAnne a little lecture but all thoughts of lecturing her left my head as she smiled up at me and said, “hi hon you like pood”? Taken aback and with all anger evaporated I simply smiled and shook my head and turned around top walk out the door, but as my hand touched the door handle I had a sudden stroke of inspiration. Turning back to MayAnne I said, “no food for me but I wouldn’t mind a blow job”. Straight away this bought a look of fake disgust onto MayAnne’s face and after she had swallowed her food she replied, “bastos Martin talaga”, then with a mischievous smile and a sparkling glint in her eye she looked me in the eyes and said, “why not”. Right then and there I decided I loved the Philippines and had no intention of leaving well at least not in the short term.

Upon observing MayAnne’s simple reaction I couldn’t help but compare it to that of a woman in my own country. Here in the Philippines, well at least in the bar world, sex was approached in a very matter of fact way and these girls had none of the inhibitions or angst that was so common among the white women I had known. Rather than being women’s liberationists that seemed to be against men and were hung up about sex these girls used it and their femininity as a means to get what they want, as well as a means to get physical gratification. This was certainly a world I was more comfortable in and in a way even though I hadn’t been bought up with Filipinas I could relate to their point of view more than that of women in my own country.

It took MayAnne another 15 minutes to polish off the Pancit Bihon, one of the few things the Maharajah made well, and then after a quick trip to the bathroom supposedly to wash her mouth, she pulled my shorts down and proceeded to suck on my dick like a true professional. For me I have always appreciated a good blow job and it never ceased to amaze me how the angelic brown skinned Filipinas could suck on a mans dick like it was something perfectly natural and there was no sense of the recipient owing anything to the giver. So unlike my world where if a woman gave you a blow job she acted like you owed her a favor for ever more as she had made the ultimate sacrifice.

After an extremely satisfying blow job I decided it was time for a little afternoon nap and this is where the Maharajah really came into its own. The room was delightfully chilled by the air-conditioning unit, the drapes kept the light out and the bed was awesomely comfortable. It wasn’t ten minutes before I was fast asleep while somewhere in the distance I could hear MayAnne giggling at something which was funny for her but which eluded me totally.

I think I must have slept for a couple of hours because next thing I knew I was being gently shaken awake by May Anne who announced, “I work now but come back hotel later”. Still slightly drowsy from the deep sleep I nodded and replied “sure babe I’ll see you later”. MayAnne smiled and headed towards the door but as she reached it she turned to me and with a serious look on her face she said, “no girls for you, you have girl I kill you talaga”. Before I could respond she had opened the door and disappeared down the corridor leaving me to contemplate how I had managed to get myself in yet another cock blocked situation.

As soon as MayAnne spotted me she broke out in a big smile, shouted hello and then breezed over and planted a kiss on my lips right in front of Wally. At this moment I felt like total scum and incredibly embarrassed and all the time, even though I wasn’t looking at him directly, I could tell Wally was seething. In hindsight Wally had no right to be so pissed off , I mean he had gone first and he had just finished giving me a lecture on sharing is caring, but I guess it was hard for him to practice what he preached.

At the time Wally’s hypocrisy didn’t dawn on me, in fact quite the opposite. I was feeling about as low as a snakes belly and I waited in trepidation for the tirade I knew was coming my way. MayAnne although having been with Wally just a few hours before me, seemed completely oblivious to Wally’s presence which must have rubbed salt on his wounded ego, and I could sense his anger about to boil over.

Deciding diplomacy was the better part of valor I gently lifted May Anne of my lap and told her I was sorry but she had to go now as I had to talk with Wally. I held her hand and walked her out through the reception. When we were outside the hotel I hailed a trike and subtly slipped 300 peso into her hand while promising to come and bar fine her later that night. May Anne although a bit miffed at being sent on her way, seemed to accept my promise and she lithely jumped into the trike and headed on her way.

So now it was time to face the music and with a feeling of trepidation I headed back into the hotel to face an angry Wally. As soon as I walked into the restaurant area Wally confronted me saying, “you are a shit head Martin, you’re a fucking slime lower than a snakes cunt”. At this stage I was feeling pretty bad so I decided to take his abuse and let him blow of steam. Then maybe when he had calmed down a bit I would talk with him rationally. This was my thoughts, but unfortunately it didn’t turn out like that. Wally by this time was riled up, he had something to say and he was going to get it off his mind no matter what.

“Listen dickhead” he said, “you knew I liked that girl so why did you have to fuck her, there are so many other sheilas but you have to get her. You are scum Martin and I hope someone belts the shit out of you”. As I have said I wasn’t feeling exactly proud of my actions but Wally was going a little bit far, and despite my resolution to remain silent his latest tirade got under my skin and I was now going to fight back. “Listen mate what was it you were saying before something along the lines of sharing is caring? Seems to me you should practice what you preach”. Wally was momentarily phased by this but recovered quickly to say, “it’s different with May Anne I really like her and you fucking knew that”. “Wait a minute” I replied “I had no idea you really liked her, this wasn’t personal mate, she is working in the bar and besides she chose me, not the other way round”.

Upon hearing this Wally was a little taken aback but recovered quickly to say, “I don’t believe you. I told her I really liked her and was planning to take her out of the bar and when she left me she said she was going home to tell her mum she was stopping work and coming to live with me”. Now it was my turn to be taken aback so I sat down and tried to get my thoughts together then after a moments contemplation I told Wally, “well mate I had no idea about any of this and if I had I never would have gone near her”. He looked at me with smoldering hatred in his eyes and said, “well how thick are you then, you’re a fucking dickhead” and with that said, walked out of the room.

I have observed similar situations as the one between myself and Wally on many occasions and each time I do, I think to myself, why does one guy blame the other guy when at the end of the day it is basically the woman’s fault, as much if not more so, than the other guy. In this particular case it was definitely MayAnne’s fault as she was the one who initiated contact with blatant disregard for Wally’s feelings. Then again, perhaps she like me, had no idea of the intensity of Wally’s feelings for her. All of these thoughts were racing through my head and at the end of the day I was pretty sure I wasn’t to blame totally but the trouble was how could I convince Wally of this.

So now I was left alone in the restaurant with feelings of guilt rushing through my body, feeling just as Wally had described me, a dick head. Yet despite my feelings of guilt somewhere deep inside there was a feeling of righteousness. In the back of my mind I knew that this was an over reaction by Wally and that it was MayAnne who had initiated things, not me. I was kind of tempted to confront Wally with this and explain to him that I wasn’t a mind reader but in the end I chickened out, and deciding discretion is the better part of valor, I finished breakfast, made my way back to my room, packed my gear and headed off to Fields in search of another hotel.

I was walking up Fields Avenue and got to where Philies is now, where a young Filipino guy stepped in front of me and said, “hotel sir”? Normally I would have brushed past this very obvious tout but at the time my bags were beginning to get heavy and the guy assured me this was the best hotel in Angeles at a very good price. In hindsight it was probably a risky proposition following an unknown Filipino guy but luckily for me this guy turned out to be legit and even genuinely helpful.

Once I said to the guy, “okay I will have a look at the hotel” a trike appeared from nowhere and next thing I knew my bags were being packed on top of the trike, then with me tucked inside the minute trike cabin and my new found guide, sitting side saddle on the back seat, we made our way up Fields Avenue onto what is colloquially referred to as Perimeter Road.

I am never quite sure what to expect when a Filipino says a hotel is close. Sometimes it is literally a 5 minute stroll and other times it’s a twenty minute ride in a dilapidated old trike. This turned out to be the later and as we crossed over the railway tracks that mark Checkpoint I was thinking to myself shit, I wonder where these two are taking me but then decided well there’s nothing much I can do about it now so I will just go along for the ride and see what happens.

The trike ride to my new hotel took about twenty minutes as we were literally crawling along at a snails pace, plus the driver had to stop to have a piss by the side of the road. Eventually the trike took a left turn following a big sign saying Maharajah Hotel. The Maharajah sounds fairly opulent, I thought to myself, and I hoped I would be able to afford the place. We pulled up at the big glass doors that mark the entry to the Maharajah and within seconds my guide had my bags off the top of the trike and was standing around with an expectant look on his face. I asked him how much for the trike and he told me 100 piso which in those days was a hefty amount but I didn’t know so I rummaged through me wallet and handed him 100 piso for the trike, plus another hundred for himself. I explained what this was for and I must have done something right because this guy upon receiving my tip suddenly went from guiding stranger to my new best friend. He insisted on accompanying me into the hotel and would help me book in. He grabbed my bags and proceeded into the rather grand reception area of the Maharajah Hotel which unbeknownst to me was to become my home away from home whenever I was to visit Angeles in the coming years.

At first glance the Maharajah is really quite impressive, well at least for those times it was and again I found myself wondering if I would be able to afford to stay there. We proceeded up to the counter where two friendly ladies smiled at me and said in unison, “welcome to the Maharajah Hotel sir”. Okay I thought to myself, this is starting out okay, but I better find out how much this joint is. Before I could respond a piece of cardboard like paper was pushed at me and I was politely asked to fill in the form.

For me this was standard procedure that I was used to when living in Australia so I started filling in the form like a good little tourist. On the form there were all the usual questions name, age, country of origin etc then down the bottom was a space to fill in your rank. When I came to this section I told the ladies, “sorry I am not in the services, I don’t have any rank”. Upon hearing this she seemed a bit shocked but recovered quickly enough to say, “no problem sir, just leave that part” Looking back on it the ‘rank’ request on the form was perfectly natural because previously, 99.9% of their customers had been American military personnel. I however was the new breed of invader, and I like to think I was one of the first Southern hemisphere boys who discovered the Maharajah and I know for many years to come, when I met people in Manila who were coming up to Angeles, I would recommend them to the Maharajah Hotel.

After being told to ignore the rank request I asked the lady how much a night the hotel was and she replied 500 piso which in those days with an exchange rate of about 28 to 1 represented about 18 Australian dollars. I thought to myself well this isn’t to bad but since it is out of the way and I don’t see many other customers, I bet I can make a deal for a lesser price. I looked at the lady and gave her what I thought was one of my best smiles and asked her, “how about a discount for longer staying clients”, to which she replied, “how long do you plan on staying” and when I answered, one week, she replied, “okay sir we can give you a room for 450 piso a night but that’s 2 nights payment in advance please sir”. Once again I gave her my best smile and said, “make it 400 a night and I will give you four days payment in advance”. She looked at me with a mischievous sparkle in her eye as if to say who does this cheeky young foreigner think he is trying to bargain with me. She looked at my guide and there was a quick exchange in Tagalog, then she turned back to me and said normally our maximum discount is 50 piso sir but because you are staying one week we will give you a room for four hundred a night with four days in advance payment”. I replied you have a deal and after rummaging through my wallet, an occurrence that happens far to often here in the Philippines, I pulled out 1600 peso handed it to her and next thing I knew was being given directions to my room.

My guide wanted to carry my bags into my room but being a bit wary of this seemingly over friendly Filipino I told him thanks for the offer but I am a big boy and can handle my own luggage. With this said I thanked him again for his help, picked up my bags and made my way towards my room.

I did not know it at the time, but the Maharajah was to become my favorite AC hotel and over the coming years I got to know the staff at the Maharajah well. Some of them even became long term friends who I am still close to some 21 years later.

I was just taking my first steps into the outside dinning area by the pool when I heard a girls voice calling out my name. Thinking I had left something behind at the reception I turned around only to be confronted by a perpetually energetic MayAnne.

Having just had an awesome blow job from a glamour that supposedly went out very rarely, I was feeling quite pleased with myself. I walked out of the toilet trying to hold back my smug contented smile but this was more easily said than done. I don’t think I did a very good job because as I rejoined the group of drinkers one of the guys looked at me and said, “what you so happy about mate, you look like you just won the bloody lottery”. I looked at him and quickly blurted out something about reading the jokes on the toilet wall, and then to take the attention away from me, I hailed a waitress and ordered another round.

With the round of drinks delivered I was soon forgotten and the discussion moved onto Australian sports and the eternal argument, which is better Aussie rules or Rugby League. In my day I was a decent rugby player and was quite knowledgeable about the game so this conversation was something I could easily contribute to. The discussion, as nearly all such discussions do, soon became quite animated with each side expressing their point of view adamantly. I was just about to make a counter point when one the guys said to me, “hey look at that young fella. Isn’t that Carla the one you were buying drinks for, pashing with that bloke”. I followed the direction of his finger and there sure enough was Carla sitting on some guys lap passionately embracing and kissing him.

When I saw this I couldn’t help but break out into a huge smile and have a little chuckle to myself. Images of her sucking my dick ten minutes ago just wouldn’t leave my head and yet here she was kissing this guy like he was the long lost love of her life. I thought to myself I wonder if I should tell the guy but then thought to myself no why bother what he doesn’t know wont hurt him and why spoil his good time anyway. The guy who had originally pointed her actions out saw the smile on my face and said ” that’s the best way to handle it mate, always have a laugh at these shielas. Fuck it you buy her a few drinks and this is how she treats you best thing you can do is laugh at it and never get to serious mate”.

Upon hearing this I couldn’t contain my laughter any more and broke out in a huge chuckle. The guys in the drinking group must have thought I was wacko but they soon moved on from me as the discussion once again changed and they all became instant experts as they argued about who was the greatest boxer ever.

By now the drinks were beginning to take their toll and as much as I was enjoying the chin wag with my new found friends, I thought to myself, if I want to sit around drinking beer talking about anything and everything I can do that at home. I had come to the Philippines to meet girls and sitting in this group was not exactly conducive to this end. I paid my bill, said my goodbyes to the boys and then proceeded to head out the bar. On the way out I walked past Carla who while still sitting on this guys lap, looked over his shoulder and gave me the most lascivious smile I have ever seen on a woman anywhere in the world.

Still dazed at the gall of Carla, I made it to the front door opened it only to bump straight into MayAnne. Little MayAnne looked at me and said, “Martin why you leave now, I come back look to you”. “Wait a minute” I stammered, “Wally barfine you, so why are you back here”? Completely non pulsed MayAnne replied, “I like go you not Wally”. Ordinarily a situation like this would ring alarm bells, but it was getting late, I was half way inebriated and little MayAnne was a really cute spinner who I just couldn’t say no to.

Throwing caution to the wind I said to MayAnne, “okay honey if you want to go with me let’s do it, I am leaving now and if you want to come with me you are more than welcome”. Upon hearing this she gave me a beaming smile and replied “you pay mamasan”. I thought about this and asked her, “why do I have to pay when Wally has already paid” and she replied, “Wally only short time, you long time, so must pay mamasan”. At this stage I really should have known better but the good old little head got the better of me and next thing I knew I was digging through my wallet and handing over 300 peso for the bar fine.

MayAnne dashed off and within an instant she was back and inserting her arm through mine, escorted me out the bar. Once outside we got a trike back to the Bonanza hotel which I think was a massive 30 piso, (yes the trikes were reasonable back then unlike today) and within ten minutes we were walking into the Bonanzas foyer. The front desk lady was fast asleep at the front desk so I gently shook her to wake her up but upon opening her eyes she gave a quizzical look. I followed the direction of her gaze and of course she was having a hard time concealing her contempt of MayAnne. At first I thought to myself , wait a minute aren’t the hotels here supposed to be tourist and girl friendly and then it dawned on me. This lady had probably seen MayAnne a couple of hours before accompanying Wally. I was about to ask her have you got a problem but then I thought better of it, told her my room number and asked politely for the key. My request seemed to bring her attention back to me and as if coming out of a daze she reached behind her, picked up my room key and handed it to me. Barely able to contain my temper of this judgmental bitch I gave her a smirk, grabbed MayAnne by the hand and headed to my room for another torrid sexual encounter.

I have always found it a good sign if the girl indicates that she is attracted to you, invariably these have been the best sexual encounters, but on the other hand, I have also found that if the girl really likes you and has invested serious feelings in you, then she is invariably lousy in the bed. It’s strange how that works in the Philippines, but for some reason when the girl loves you she will often be overcome with a sense of shyness which stops her from performing in the bed.

With MayAnne however there was no such problem. Yes it was obvious that she was attracted to me but this was a far cry from love, and her sexual performance was indicative of this. MayAnne was obviously out to impress and no sooner had we entered the room she dropped to her knees, undid my pants and proceeded to give me an absolutely stupendous blow job. I don’t know who had taught this girl, but whoever it was had done a masterful job. While she was sucking on my dick I must admit I did experience a fleeting pang of guilt when thinking about Wally in the room next door, but as I said this was only fleeting because MayAnne certainly knew what she was doing and it was not exactly easy to concentrate on anything other than the mind blowing orgasm that was rapidly building up in my loins.

May Anne must have been blowing me for only about 5 minutes when all of a sudden I could contain myself no longer and next thing I knew I was exploding in her mouth. Once my seed was inside her mouth MayAnne daintily stood up and walked to the bathroom as if this was the most natural thing in the world.

That night was a memorable one as May Anne was a little pocket rocket and I managed to get in three rounds of energetic sex. At one stage we were doing it doggie style and the bed head was banging against the wall to the extent where I was afraid we would wake Wally up in the room next door. MayAnne was also extremely vocal and often I would burry her head in the pillow while pounding her. I seem to remember it was about 2 and a half hours between rounds and after each one I thought I was spent but MayAnne with her brilliant oral skills would always find a way to make me rise to the occasion.

The next morning at about 10:30 I wandered downstairs feeling a subtle mixture of absolute contentment exhaustion etched on my features and who should be occupying the little restaurant area, you got it none other than my traveling buddy Wally. When he saw me entering the room he smiled broadly and said, “Marty my old mate, you’re the frigging man. Who was that one you had last night mate she was a noisy bitch, must have been a great shag, I couldn’t bloody sleep mate”. At this stage I tried my hardest to keep a straight face and then Wally said, “listen mate if you wouldn’t mind can you tell me who the girl was you had last night and where she works”?

Oh shit I thought to myself, how the fuck am I going to get out of this one. I sat there slowly turning red with beads of sweat dotting my forehead and then carefully replied, “she works in Ziggys but I cant remember her name”. He looked at me quizzically and replied, “geez mate if I had a good one like that I’d share her with my mates, sharing is caring mate”. I looked at him thinking if you only knew Wally if you only knew, then replied, “no I’m serious mate. I really cant remember her name. I’m hopeless with names, really not trying to hide her from you, promise”.

Wally looked at me with a serious expression and replied, “okay Martin I believe you mate but if we go into Ziggys tonight can you introduce me mate if she is there”. With a sigh of relief I replied, “yeah sure” thinking that this would give me time to brief MayAnne and everything would be okay. Wally seemed satisfied with this and turned back to his coffee. Feeling like I had dodged a bullet I felt the tension flow away and just as I was relaxing Wally suddenly sat alert and looking over at the reception said, “what the fuck, that looks like MayAnne my girl from last night. That little bitch short timed me last night and when I asked her to stay she said she had to get back to the bar because she was feeling sick. I reckon the little slut probably did another short time with some guy who was staying here. Tell you what Marty you just cant trust any of the little shit heads”.
Upon hearing Wally I felt a sudden shiver down my spine and followed his gaze to the reception area and there was MayAnne talking with the receptionist. Instantly I turned my head trying my best impression of a turtle pulling it’s head in beneath its shell but I was to late. MayAnne turned around, saw me waved and shouted out, “hello honey”.